SEVERED (A Tale of Sleepy Hollow) (19 page)

My immediate
dilemma is how to confess this to the Council. Not only did I do this in
secrecy, but I obtained the sword illegally from the Magistrate’s court. It could
be they’d forgive me on virtuous effort, but they are a stern group of men, not
accepting of decisions and deeds carried out by one such as I. My lack of
masculinity proves me inferior by their standards.

I am looking to
you for a solution. Soon all will be revealed and you shall be free.

With love,
Katrina.

I tucked the
letter between the return assignments, knowing that Ichabod reviewed them right
away.

On Wednesday
morning I found a simple note among the lessons.

Sacrifice is
the ultimate form of love. And though I find your lack of masculinity superior
(and enticing), I shall handle things from here.

* *
*

The Horseman was sealed. Ichabod
would be freed. I should’ve been filled with jubilation. But there was still
one lose thread to my happy ending. Elise. I’d lost my closest friend, and
wanted so badly to make things right. While sitting at Father’s desk that
afternoon, I wrote her simple letter.

My dearest
Elise,

My heart is
broken. Please understand that I never meant to hurt you. What came to pass
between Ichabod and me was pure chance. There was no deceit on my part. Say
you’ll come next candle day. I cherish your friendship and miss you greatly.

Forever your
companion,

Kat

I sealed it, then
hurried out to the slave quarters where I found Leta shelling peas. I put the
letter into her hand. “I need you to deliver this to Elise Jansen.”

She dropped a long
peapod back into the heaping bowl. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Go straight
away,” I urged.

She hopped up.
“Yes, ma’am.”

“And, Leta, do not
return without a reply.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She
brought the letter to her nose, sniffed it, then slipped it into her apron
pocket. And with a spirited smile, she dashed off across the field.

I went back to the
house and waited.

A short time
later, Simon found me in the study. “Miss Katrina, there is someone at the
front door asking for you.”

I looked up,
puzzled. “Who?”

He shrugged.
“Don’t know. He’s a stranger to me.”

He?

A scruffy boy in
frayed green breeches and a tattered shirt stood on our piazza. He smelled
heavily of fish guts and bilge water. In one hand he held his knit cap, in the
other, a small piece of paper. “I’m supposed to deliver this to Katrina Van
Tassel.”

“I’m Katrina,” I
said, taking it.

The paper was
folded into six small squares. Once opened, it read:
It is here. I’ll come
by soon.
Even though I recognized the scratchy handwriting, I asked the
boy, “Who gave you this?”

He gazed up with
round eyes. “Marten Piers.”

I looked back at
the message, tapping the paper…thinking. Marten had told me to weigh my
thoughts and decide. My decision was made. “Can you take me to him?”

The boy tugged his
cap on slantwise and nodded.

“Wait here.” I
hurried up to my room and placed the broken bracelet and beads into my pocket.
How
will Marten feel about the one lost rose?
Then taking my shawl from the
peg, I made sure no one was watching as I slipped out.

When we reached
the pier, the boy pointed out Marten’s ship. I stood, gaping. Maybe ship was
the wrong word. This two-masted schooner of about sixty feet was patched,
faded, and worn. As I watched it bob drunkenly within the river wash, I could
only assume it were the barnacles that held it together.

I shielded my eyes
with my hand, looking up. “Marten?”

No answer.

“Marten,” I called
a little louder.

I tested the
gangplank, then scurried aboard. Though I could’ve never imagined it, the
topside was even worse. Its brittle wood – intercrossed with patchwork –
creaked at every step. I tiptoed, afraid it would crack and send me plunging
through to whatever lay beneath.

“Marten?”

There was no
cabin, just a hatch to the ship’s hold. Just as I reached for it, it flew open,
nearly whacking me in the face. Marten’s head popped up with it.

“Katrina, no.” He
hopped out, frantic. “You should not be here.”

“But I have
something to tell you.”

“Not now,” he
said, practically dragging me back toward the gangplank.

We’d only made it
halfway when someone else emerged from the hold. “Look who’s come to visit?”

My blood chilled.
Peter Bottoms. The beads in my pocket suddenly felt leaden.

His eyes crawled
over me as he asked, “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

I looked to
Marten, but his face was ashen and his lips pressed tight.

“I simply wanted
to see Marten’s ship,” I offered. “I didn’t know he’d have company.”

Peter snorted back
phlegm. “Wasn’t the plan that you stay hidden?” He cut his eyes to Marten.

“Yes,” Marten
answered. Then he turned to me. “Katrina, you took a great risk coming here.” I
felt there was more to that statement than me being seen. I was caught like a
rabbit in a snare. What would happen if I told the truth? That I no longer
intended to leave?

Peter drew closer.
“I think this one is a bit of a risk-taker. Isn’t that right, sweetheart.”

Marten held my arm
again. “Peter, she made a mistake. And now she’s leaving.”

Peter glanced at
my wrist. The beads in my pocket were on fire.
Why does he want them so
badly?

“Yes,” I agreed.
“It was a mistake. I’m so sorry.”

“What’s done is
done,” Peter said, advancing. “Now that you’re here, you might as well come
below and have a drink with us. I brought my best rum from the tavern.”

Marten took a step
in front of me. “There is still water and debris down there. It’s not fit for a
lady.”

Peter grinned,
revealing a mouthful of stubby yellow teeth. “It’ll be fit soon enough. And I
bet he’ll have your bunk smelling like roses.”

Marten gripped my
arm tighter and urged me away. I hurried down the gangplank without looking
back.

* *
*

Once home, I went straight to my
wardrobe. Then tearing away two stitches, I tucked the roses and chain into the
hem of a blue summer gown. Why they were valuable, I didn’t know, but until I
returned them to Marten, I couldn’t risk another being lost.

When I went down,
Leta was in the kitchen, helping Simon with dinner. “Did you deliver the
letter?” I asked.

She leaned close
to me and sniffed.

“Yes, I know. I
smell like the wharf rat. Did you present the note?”

“Well,” she began,
“when I arrived, Miss Elise wasn’t there. Her ma said she’d gone to Mr. Van
Ripper’s.”

“Van Ripper’s? Why
would she go there?” Though I could guess.

Leta’s eyes
widened. “That’s what I asked.”

“And…what did her
mother say?”

“She said if it
was any of my business she would’ve told Henny.”

“Leta,” I prodded,
“what happened next?”

“I told her that I
had a note for Miss Elise, and that I was to deliver it straight into her
hands.”

“Did you?” I
asked, growing impatient.

“Yes ma’am. I shot
like a bullet to Mr. Van Ripper’s farm.” She said this with a fair amount of
pride.

“And was Elise
there?”

“I found her on
the road, coming back. She was prancing and grinning like someone had just gave
her a shiny new coin.”

No doubt she’d
seen Ichabod.

“Did you give her
the note?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I waited. “Leta!
Was there a reply?”

She pulled open
her pocket, peeped in, then she gazed up at me with doleful eyes. “Just this.”
She scooped out small bits of ripped paper and dropped them into my hands. I
stared down at the mass that had once been my letter.

“Thank you, Leta.
That will be all.” I let the pieces flutter into the bin and dusted the spite
from my hands. There are some wars that are never won.

* *
*

The one good thing about not having
an overseer, it kept Father away from the house. That meant there was no one to
oversee me when I left for the schoolhouse the next afternoon. I needed to find
that bead. And I’d pull the place apart if that’s what it took.

I rode quietly
under a sky of gray drizzle. As far as I knew, no one had been to the
schoolhouse since The Horseman marked it. As I approached the schoolyard,
Dewdrop halted, refusing to take another step – much like the day I visited
Garritt.

Were there
still traces of evil here?

I snapped the
reins. “He is bound in his tomb, you silly nag.” Fruitless. She wouldn’t budge
an inch. But then it occurred to me, did I really want my horse hitched out
front? Only Ichabod and I knew there was no further danger. If Father or the
Council found out I was here, I’d have no fitting excuse.

I led Dewdrop into
the woods and tethered her to a limb. “Pray that I find it.” Then creeping
through the trees, I treaded across the damp ground. I found myself glancing
left and right, worried someone might spot me. I swear, I’d done more sneaking
in the past week than I had my entire life. It was becoming second nature. But
still, my blood chilled and my heart raced as I drew closer to the school.

I took the longer
path, avoiding the marked cellar. I wanted no fresh image of it haunting me.

The porch had not
been swept in all that time and was covered with leaves and twigs. A scattering
of molted feathers had collected under the door. I double-checked for watchers,
pushed my way in and
Dear God!
It had to be at least ten degrees colder
inside. Had the closed windows contained the previous night’s chill? My body
quivered, but it was a discomfort I’d have to endure.

On hands and
knees, I searched, starting with the farthest side of the room first. That’s
where the bracelet had broken. And while I knew that Ichabod and the students
had swept the area more than once, I couldn’t leave a single stone unturned.

I hunted for at
least ten minutes. As remarkable as that rose was, it could not up and vanish
on its own. It was here.
Somewhere.

I ran my hands
along the cleft between the wall and the floor. I checked the cracks in the
benches. The crevices in the desks. My fingers brushed any surface with a
dimple.
Guh! Where is it!
I was nearly ready to throw something when I
heard approaching footsteps outside.

I froze, the blood
draining from my face. I darted under Ichabod’s desk, holding my breath and
hugging my knees.

Within moments
there was footfall on the porch…then the creaking of the door. I closed my
eyes, shivering. Who other than I would chance coming here? Had I failed in my
attempt to seal The Horseman? And if I had, would he dismount and seek me on
foot?

Go away, go
away, go away.

Whoever had come
in stepped softly. He seemed to be wandering rather than stalking.

My heart hammered
as he approached the desk. I was trapped with no way out and no weapon to
defend myself. But then, what weapon would I use against a ghost?

Then he stopped. I
could feel him standing close, sensing me. The stranger sniffed the air, drew
in a deep breath, and said, “Katrina?”

Oh my!
I
scrambled out. “Ichabod!”

With two strides
he was there, sweeping me into his arms. “At last,” he murmured as he pressed
his lips to mine. I was ravenous for his touch.

When we finally
parted I gazed up at him, then stepped back, bewildered. “How did you know it
was me?”

His mouth creased
into a grin. “Your perfume gave you away.”

I must remember
that next time I need to skulk about. “But how is it that
you’re
here?
The Council simply released you?”

He sat against the
edge of his desk. “After I convinced them that I’d sealed The Horseman into his
grave.”

“I’m amazed they
believed you.”

“Oh, trust me,
they were skeptical. But after I confessed to sneaking out, robbing the
repository, and driving in the blade, I took them to the cemetery and showed them
the sword. I have to admit, I put on a pretty good act.” He circled his finger
around his nose. “Most people can read this boyish face like a book.”

Of course that
brought about a smile. I turned and leaned against the desk too. “You’d think
they’d be awarding you a metal.”

His eyes widened.
“Ha! You should’ve seen the Magistrate. He was furious! I honestly thought he
might arrest me for robbery.” He mashed his chin to his neck and rumbled, “You
should’ve discussed it with us first, Crane.”

I covered my laugh
with my hand. “What about the sword? How did they determine it was the right
one?”

“By examining the
hilt. Even I could see it was the weapon of a madman.” A look of pure
admiration then crossed his face. “Katrina, that must’ve taken great strength.”

“But the outcome
was more than worth it.” I brought my lips to his for another glorious kiss.

His eyes slowly
opened as I withdrew. “I have more good news.”

I couldn’t begin
to guess what it was.

“After some
persuading, they agreed that if I’m still in possession of my head on Monday, I
can go back to teaching…in the church, of course. And only traditional
assignments.” The last part said in another deep-voiced imitation of the
Magistrate.

Relief swept over
me. “That’s not good news, Ichabod, that’s great news. Teaching is not
something I’m cut out for.”

He quirked an
eyebrow. “I love the way you’re cut out.”

He wrapped me into
his arms, warming me from the harsh chill. Which reminded me, “Ichabod, why did
you even come here?”